KOTOR3: The Beginning of the End
by ticopuma
Summary: Will the galaxy survive the assault of the True Sith? Will Revan and Bastila be reunited? Will the Exile be a hero? The galaxy turns out to be much smaller and much more complicated than ever before. Little OCs, LSM Revan & Exile. Reviews are appreciated!
1. The Beginning of the End

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own thoughts. Star Wars belongs to George Lucas and his talented crew. This story was created for the sole purpose of pleasure for myself, and for (hopefully) the legions of Star Wars nerds all around the world.

Authors Notes: I decided the other day to begin a FanFiction on the greatest game ever created, Knights of the Old Republic. It is the only story that I have posted on here, and I do hope it turns out quite alright. I decided also to take a different approach to the typical Knights of the Old Republic story and have both Revan and The Exile Light Side Male, just to change things up a bit. There will be a minimum of OC's so mainly old characters, give or take the random OC Sith Lord. Rated for Violence and really just that. Enjoy and review!

**The Beginning of the End; Chapter 1**

The Ebon Hawk's engines were at full throttle as the former smuggling freighter rocketed out of Malachor V. Right behind the ship, a squadron of Sith fighters chased the ship down, firing their laser cannons at the ship. The Hawk's powerful shield repelled the shots momentarily, giving the crew of the Ebon Hawk enough time to man the gun turret.

"If someone doesn't man those turrets were gonna end up like that old witch: in pieces!" shouted Atton from the cockpit, doing his best to maneuver the freighter around the laser fire.

Mandalore and Bao-Dur ran towards the gun turrets, strapping themselves in to the seat. They began landing precise blows on the fighters, taking them out one by one. As the two soldiers took care of the fighters, Brianna hastily carried the Exile to the ship's medical bay, laying him gently on the bed.

The Exile was badly wounded by his former master, Darth Traya, having several gashes throughout his body. His screams could be heard throughout the ship.

"Stay with me Exile! C'mon stay with me!" uttered Brianna emotionally as the Exile's eyes began to close ever faster. The sight of seeing the Exile in such pain was almost to much for her to handle, but she stayed focus. She wiped her tears from her face, knowing that if she did not do something, the Exile would die.

She ran over to the plasteel cylinder next to the bed and picked up several medical supplies from the cylinder. She began working on the gashes as fast as she could. By this time, the Exile was already unconscious.

Mandalore and Bao-Dur had easily disposed of the Sith fighters, allowing Atton to enter hyperspace. The two quickly came down from the turrets and went to see how the Exile was doing.

"How is the general?" asked Bao-Dur in a tranquil voice, always appearing to stay calm even in the direst of situations.

"Not good. He is bleeding far to much. Then there is this wound, which seems to have penetrated deep into his chest. I'm afraid it might have hit an organ. But I am no doctor! We NEED to get him professional medical attention quick, or he might not last the day." said Brianna in a painful voice, obviously deeply concerned on the health of the Exile.

"I've seen what you Jedi are capable of, are you telling me you can't heal a few wounds with the force?" asked Mandalore in his usual aggressive tone.

"The Exile had just begun to teach me the ways of the force. I can barely move a Bothan stun stick and you expect me to heal wounds of this size?"

"Then maybe the Miraluka can. We've all seen how many scars and wounds she has, and she seems to have recovered fully from all of them. And I doubt the Sith gave her any medical attention when she was with Nihilus, meaning that she must know how to heal someone."

"She is not going anywhere NEAR HIM! I will NOT allow it! She is Sith!" yelled Brianna, bursting at the very mention of her name. She had always been suspicious of the Miraluka since she first came on board the Ebon Hawk. However, suspicion was not the reason the Handmaiden hated Visas so much. Jealousy was the true factor in the utter despise for the former Sith. Though she did not admit it to anyone, if was obvious to the rest of the Hawk's crew.

"If you don't put your hate for her aside, then he will die!" shouted Mandalore, outraged at the lack of maturity being displayed by the Echani.

Visas walked over to the Medical Bay slowly, hoping to avoid any direct conflict between her and Brianna. The Miraluka had hesitated going to help the Exile in order to not spark conflict, hoping that Brianna would be able to heal his wounds without the need of the force. However, seeing as Brianna was failing terribly in her attempt to cure the Exile, Visas knew that she could wait no longer.

"Step aside, Echani." murmured Visas, making her way into the Medical bay in order to save the Exile's life.

Before the Miraluka could even put one foot inside the medical bay, she had Brianna's double bladed light saber less than an inch from her throat, her chin covered in an ocean of blue light.

"Get away from him Sith! One more step forward and you shall get a taste of my blade!" yelled Brianna, her blade getting ever closer to the Miraluka's skin. Her lack of Jedi training became more and apparent seeing as how she would prefer the Exile to die rather than another getting near him.

"It is unfortunate that I have to do this. But you shall thank me later." The Miraluka took several steps back away from the Handmaiden's light saber. Just as the Handmaiden lowered her massive weapon, Visas raised her arm with amazing speed, and began a light force choke on the Handmaiden. Brianna dropped her saber on the ground, clutching her hands around her neck, gasping for air.

"What the hell are you doing!?" asked Mandalore, shocked at what was unfolding before his eyes. Even for someone who had been through so much battle and had seen so much, never had he seen to Jedi fighting over another Jedi.

"Calm down, Mandalorian. If she will not let me heal him, then she must be removed from the room. Seeing as how she will not do that willingly, I will have to do it for her." said Visas, intensifying the grip on the Handmaiden's airway. After several seconds, Brianna slowly slipped for consciousness. Visas stopped the choke promptly once the Echani fell helpless on the cold floor, allowing air to fill her lungs once more, keeping her alive.

"Lock her in the cargo hold. Make sure that the door is sealed shut so when she awakes, she will not escape and seek me out. She must be kept in there until the Exile awakes."

Mandalore and Bao-Dur picked up the Handmaiden's unconscious body and placed her in the cargo hold just as instructed. Visas walked into the medical bay, closing the hatch behind her.

Her knees dropped to the floor as she centered herself, calling upon the force. She placed her hands over the Exile's head, using the force to heal his extensive wounds.

A luminous glow began to emit from the Exile as his wounds slowly began to disappear. The Exile was saved.

Visas gathered what little strength she had left in order to lift herself. She opened the hatch leading out of the medical bay, walking out ever so slowly. Outside of the bay was the crew of the Ebon Hawk, all waiting intently to hear if she was able to save their leader.

"It is done."

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Sorrow and pain was all that filled the mind of a man who had held the galaxy in the palm of his hand. His power and his godlike ingenuity spread through worlds like wildfire, planting its roots deep in the minds of the rich and the poor alike. He conquered worlds, turning them into diamonds, spreading peace and prosperity everywhere he laid his feet on, and everywhere he did not. He was looked up to by all, loved by all, and cherished by all. Now the man who had everything…had nothing.

Kreia had warned him that his kind nature would be his downfall, but he refused to listen. All his heart knew was compassion and mercy. The force had given him something some would call a gift, and others a curse.

For Revan, altruism had resulted in his undoing. He had been stripped of his power, imprisoned, tortured, and most horrible of all, been taken away from the one person that even he would have killed the galaxy for: Bastila.

There was not a day, a minute, a second that his mind did go back to the women that made his life worth living. Even after more than 5 years of imprisonment, years of constant mental and physical torture he fought on and never gave up. He longed for the day he could be back with her, with the republic strong and the Sith finished.

Sadly, the cards were not in favor for him nor for the Exile, nor for the Sith. The Republic was weak and getting only weaker. Their army was lead by Admiral Onasi, who was pained and mentally weak by the disappearance of Revan and the diminishing force of the Republic. The Jedi were few in numbers, with only a few of the masters left. The Sith were equally in numbers as well, and lacking a leader. And the Sith can only go farther downhill without a leader.

No matter how doomed his life seemed, he would not let "them" win. Even as he lay there, almost swimming in blood, he would not let the last flicker of hope within him die. For that flicker of hope was all that kept him alive.

His beaten and bruised face was illuminated by the bright blue force field that surrounded the same room he had been in for the past 5 years. The Sith guards stood outside the field, their red skin creating a beautiful contrast even when created on such a horrible canvas.

Revan crawled slowly on the floor, attempting to reach his food for the day: a small bowl of boiled Cannok. At first, he had refused to eat what little they would give him. Eventually however, he was not able to sustain himself without food. Because the room he was in severed his connection to the force, as long as he remained inside of it, his sole source of energy was the Cannok he was given.

He put the pieces of the deceased animal in his mouth, using the little energy he had to chew.

The look in his face spoke for him; the smell of the game reminded him of the stench of the Gamorrean infested sewers back on Taris, though he would much rather be in the presence of Gamorreans as opposed to Sith.

He quickly finished his food, lying back down on the cold metal floor. A gap was created in the force field as the Sith beast tamers walked in, each holding mammoth chains which were attached to the necks of 2 equally mammoth Terentatek.

Revan's screams could be heard from corridor to corridor as the Terentatek did what they did best. Revan knew he would not last much longer on Ziost, placing all his hope on the Exile and his former allies.


	2. Future Visions

Authors Notes:

I made this a bit of a shorter chapter than the previous one and for the most part more of a transition chapter to really get the story going.

Arias Asriel: Thanks, and yes, it is a similar version of a story I had posted about 3 months ago. However, I removed it to make some changes and take it in a different direction.

What contented men desire: I was planning on continue to call him 'General' and 'Exile' simply because I find that with all the stories about there, it just makes it simpler and easier for a reader to follow when you have less names and less OCs.

**The Beginning of the End; Chapter 2**

The Exile's eyes opened wide as he felt a surge of energy flow threw his body. His reflexes acted before he could, sending his body flying upwards. He immediately placed his fists strategically in front of his face, ready for action.

"Whoa! General, it's ok! It's just me!" yelled Bao-Dur, caught off guard by the Exile's sudden awakening. The Iridonian had been patching up some of his master's less severe wounds with the few medical supplies left on the Hawk.

The Exile let out a sigh of relief, sitting himself gently back upon the bed. "My apologies

Bao-Dur," he said quietly putting his arm on his chest; he was doing his best to endure the pain of his wounds.

"No problem General, just try to relax and take it easy."

Even though the Exile had just awoken with severe wounds after an epic battle, already his mind was racing; he was already planning where his next destination was, how he would find and save Revan, and who he would bring along with him.

"Make sure we're on course for Telos," asked the Exile, leaning his back against the wall behind the bed. "I need to speak with General Onasi."

"I'll tell Atton to see you. But before I go, "Bao-Dur stopped himself before he opened the door to the hallway, "we had a little incident with the Handmaiden and Visas."

"What is it that happened?"

"Well, when you came on board you really hurt, almost dead if you ask me. We don't really have many supplies left onboard and if we didn't do something you wouldn't have lasted the hour," explained the Iridonian, "we needed someone who was significantly trained in the force to heal your wounds; we needed Visas."

The Exile's left eyebrow raised slowly, indubitably puzzled by his friend's story. "What does that have to do with the Handmaiden?"

"Well, to put it simply, she didn't want her anywhere near you. Given that you were going to die if she didn't allow Visas to work on you, the Miraluka had to force choke her out of consciousness. She's locked up in the cargo hold."

He let out a deep sigh of disappointment. He knew that the Handmaiden had not acted the way she did out of malevolence. She was a good person with a good heart who made a mistake. All she needed was more instruction which he would be more than willing to give.

"I see. I will go see her when I further recuperate. For now, tell Atton to come see me."

The Iridonian gave the Exile a nod of acknowledgement and headed for the cockpit.

The Exile scratched his head and gave another sigh, though this one was in relation to his fatigue more than anything else. Every time he predicted what was to come, his morale dampened horribly. To his knowledge, even though the threat of the Sith under Traya had been eliminated, there was still the problem she warned him about: the impeding attack of the True Sith. Without a strengthened Republic army and the aid of a rehabilitated Revan, there was no doubt that the galaxy would crumble under their empire.

Yet the Exile knew that he had to stay focused and handle things cautiously. He planned to take things one at a time, starting with the strengthening of Republic forces.

Atton made his way to the medical bay and entered the room. "How's the man of the hour doing?"

"I'm doing alright actually. Are we on course for Telos?" answered the Exile, quickly getting to business.

"Don't worry, don't worry, the Hawk is already on course for the Citadel Station. What do you want to do there anyway? Didn't we just get back from that junk yard?"

"I have to speak with General Onasi. I have some newfound information on Revan that I want to share with him. We also need to begin planning on how to fortify the Republic army."

Atton gave a surreptitious scoff at the Exile's ambitions, "If you say so," he retorted, turning around and making his way back to the cockpit. Though he made it appear like he did not care, he had just gotten one of his famed "bad feelings". His skin shriveled as goosebumps ran across his skin chilled skin.

The scoundrel sat down on the pilot seat and put his head down on the instrument panel. He closed his eyes and attempted to fall in a deep sleep.

_In what appeared to be an instant, he was rashly awoken by the voice of one of his greatest enemies: Kreia. _

"_Hello there…Atton," said Kreia dimly appearing with her usual brown, hooded robes. She stood in front of the cockpit entrance, lightsaber in hand. _

_The former Sith quickly removed his lightsaber from its holder and ignited it, revealing a long, yellow blade. With his other hand he took out his blaster and shot a bolt at Kreia's face with deadly precision. _

_With equal precision Kreia ignited her green lightsaber and deflected it once more, the bolt hitting a nearby control panel. _

"_I thought the Exile spaced your ass on Malachor V!" exclaimed Atton, emitting a mix of utter terror and astonishment. _

_Kreia cackled maniacally and put her hand on her waist. "Did you really think a simple lightsaber could kill me? Atton, Atton, Atton, how disappointing."_

_Atton wondered in his head why no one had heard the blaster fire. Surely with so many people on board, one of them must have heard it. Why?_

"_Why can't you just leave me alone already?! Haven't you tortured me enough, or did you just have your daily dose?"_

"_I tried to teach you a lesson, but it would appear that one such as yourself cannot be taught in such a manner. Letting you live was a mistake I shall not commit twice."_

_Kreia extended her hands and shot an orange red stream of energy at Atton, draining him of all life. He fell dead to the ground, disconnected and void from the force. _

Atton jumped up from the pilot's seat, sweat literally dripping from his face. It had only been a dream this time… or had it?

----------------------

With the exit of the Terentateks left an ever growing pool of blood under Revan. Even for a man of such devastating power, both physical and emotional, he did not know how much more of this abuse he would be able to take. There was a not a day that passed that the Massassi did not unleash the wrath of either their Terentateks or their Hssiss on him. His body was littered with scars, bruised, and gashes that appeared to be the size of galaxies. Emotionally, the pain of his injuries did not affect him, but the same could not be said for his physical body. It was in a constant and rather rapid decline. If he was not rescued at some point, he would not last much longer.

Yet for the unprecedented amount of abuse he had received, he never gave up. Even as the black hole that his life had turned into continued to only get blacker, he did not once surrender. He was always thinking of and planning what could be done to aid in the quite dire situation he was in.

He raised his back off the ground and leaned it against the wall, then wiped the blood from his mouth. He spit to his side, releasing what seemed to be an ocean of blood. He centered himself quickly thereafter, and listened intently to the chatter outside of his cell.

"When do you think our Lord will end the Jedi's life?" said one of the Massassi guarding the entrance into Revan's cell.

Though the Sith species were the epitome of malevolence, their technology was highly advanced. Even for how barbaric and crude some aspects of Sith life was, in certain areas their wit surpassed that of any species in the known galaxy.

"I don't think he will kill him. This man has lived through much, a man who Lord Evalesco will not waste," added the other guard, gripping his staff stiff and upright. The tentacle like organs that grew from his head drooped over his shoulders, reaching as far as his lower back.

"I don't see why we need him. If he does keep him alive, our lord is much more foolish than I…" the criticism toward his master was cut of halfway by the snapping of his airway. In front of him stood a heavily tattooed Sith, with flowing black robes under a plethora of silver tentacles. His tattooed arm was extended outward with two fingers nearly touching.

"How unfortunate…" with that the Sith finished pressing his two fingers together, completely severing the Massassi's head from the body. This grueling act of malice was done without the Sith laying a finger on his physical weapon, and done solely through the use of the force.

Darth Altero was a relatively small Sith, though his size did not do justice to the size of his strength. Like his master Darth Evalesco and his peers, his heart knew evil and only evil. To the Sith on Ziost, death was more of a pleasure than anything else, and his mercy was less than any of the Sith in the known galaxy. For this very reason Traya wanted to form an allegiance with these Sith in order to use them to exact her vengeance.

The remaining Massassi guard bowed quickly to his commanding officer, placing his staff horizontally on the cold, damp floor. "My sincerest apologies for not ending his life sooner, my lord."

The Sith directed his servant to rise, and then slowly edged past the rising Massassi towards the cell where Revan lay. He waved his hand in a short arch, using the force to open the heavy Dura-steel blast door that enclosed the Jedi. The door whizzed open revealing the shining blue light of the force field.

"Good morning our dearest Revan. How is the grandest of Jedi doing today?" uttered Altero in the most sadistic of tones. His voice was low and smooth and almost entirely overshadowed by the hum of the force field.

Revan remained with his eyes closed, not yet willing to indulge the Sith.

Altero's face went from sarcastic to exceedingly angry. "Don't test me Jedi. I could double your meeting with the Terentatek easily."

Revan remained with his eyes shut, though ever so slightly. He refused to give the Sith the pleasure of his attention.

"Very well," agreed the Sith grudgingly, turning around and heading back out of the cell. "Tomorrow will be very…unpleasant, my friend. Do enjoy the tranquility of the night for tomorrow you will look my master in the eye and _beg_ for death."


	3. Questions

Author's Notes:

This is more of a chapter for Revan and his part of the story more than anything else. I decided to shorten the Exile part of this chapter slightly and add it to the next one, which will be a crucial point in time for both parties.

As always, reviews with constructive criticism are more than welcome. D

What contented men desire: Thanks for the heads up. ;

**The Beginning of the End; Chapter 3**

Revan could not help but let Altero's words get to him; the once mighty Jedi did not fear physical pain in any way. He was ready to face whatever his Sith capturers would throw at him. What he feared, more than anything, was death. He feared death simply because if he died, the galaxy would die with him. This was in no way a display of arrogance or anything of the sort; Revan was among the most humble of people in the galaxy. It is in fact due to his great humility that he recognizes the great power the Sith possess and is wiling to admit that they will undoubtedly wreak havoc to the Republic if they do not have as much help as possible.

No doubt they would have extra vigorous torture for the day. However, something told him it would be worse than the average torture session. What exactly they had in plan for the day was an enigma to him. The only thing Revan was sure of was that he must continue to be strong and survive whatever they have in store for him.

He lay in the same pool of blood he had been lying in for many years. Despite his physical state, his senses were as alert as ever. He could hear deep pounding footsteps edging nearer and nearer.

"Get up Jedi. Lord Evalesco has something extra special in store for you today," groaned one of the Massassi guards. Revan did as they said and used the little strength he had left to lift himself to the ground. His legs trembled as he slowly raised himself.

The guards lowered the containment field and snapped force restricting chains around Revan's neck, arms and legs, ensuring he would not use his force powers to even attempt an escape. The Guards walked him through the hallways of the Ziost temple, holding their ever sharp weapons at deadly range.

The temple was littered with grand statues of their master, Darth Evalesco. Bowls with fierce flames were equally distributed across the temple. In the center of the building lay a large, shallow pool filled with jet black water. Behind it was a mammoth statue of their Dark lord. Humming and chanting in Sith dialect could be heard as the Jedi dragged himself through the temple.

"Poor Jedi, let me assist you," said the guard, pushing Revan up the winding staircase that lay ahead. The Jedi slammed his head against the stone wall, adding yet another injury to his list of growing ailments. He responded with total silence. He continued up the stairs, giving his enemies no satisfaction.

As he reached the top of the stairs he could see a break of light. A ray of crimson sun shone through to him, his pupils retracting in response to the bright light. It had been years since he laid eyes upon a sun, the ray bringing back ever dear memories of his adventures with Bastila and the crew of the Ebon Hawk.

Sadly, his memories of his dearest and the Star Forge adventures were put to an end by the roaring sound of maniacal laughter. He was pushed once more by the guard, this time falling face forward on a limestone stage, overlooking a massive forest clearing. The clearing was filled with thousands, if not tens of thousands of red skinned Sith. They laughed hysterically at the pathetic life form that Revan had slowly turned into.

He attempted to raise his body, yet failed. The laughter intensified as he continued his struggle to raise himself from the ground. Dust from the limestone covered his face, his blood acting as glue for the particles.

When he was finally able to lift himself, he stood crooked and hunched over, the chains weighing him down with what seemed to him the weight of the rancor he had faced on Taris.

Suddenly, the laughter turned into a dead silence. Not a single sound wave moved across the forest clearing as the crowd of Sith gave a deep bow in perfect unison. Revan wondered to himself why the sudden silence when it became clear to him the reason: their dark lord.

Evalesco's presence emitted almost a painful dark aura. What little of his skin was visible was an alabaster white, cracked with dark creases big enough to rival the canyons of Tatooine. His mouth and nostrils were covered with a black leather mask with two angle fangs extending from its bottom. His head was filled with knee long tentacles over elongated flowing robes. The black attire was covered in Sith inscriptions, with the back tailing more than 5 feet behind him.

His arms were covered with black gloves, extending as far up to his shoulder. His wrists were mounted with duel lanvaroks, a deadly Sith weapon. In his 5 years of imprisonment, this was only Revan's second meeting with the Dark Lord. His first was the day of his arrival to Ziost, one of the bloodiest days of his life, and a day he shall never forget.

Though the former Jedi Master had felt angst since Darth Altero left his cell yesterday, the surge of emotion that ran through his veins like ice water was not that of fear, but that of terror.

The Dark Lord edged closer and closer to him, the pain in Revan's heart increasing with every inch. He erected himself as much as possible, standing with dignity and honor, even amidst the humiliation he had been put through.

"Enjoy, Sith. Twist and bend me until the ends of the galaxy, for I shall not break," mumbled Revan, finding in him the strength and courage that he did not think he no longer had.

The Dark Lord remained silent. He moved not an inch, merely gazing upon Revan with eyes of hate that would burn a hole in even the strongest of Mandalorian Iron. His eyes became a fiery blend of black and red. The taint of the dark side burned within him like a wildfire.

Revan gazed back at him, his eyes shining brightly emitting newfound courage and valor. Good and evil were pinned against one another in a devastating battle that shed not an ounce of blood.

In an instant they were thrown across the stage in opposite directions. Revan's chains flailed as he flew the air, landing hard back on the ground. His enemy was flung with equal force the opposite direction. His robes flowed in the air like water, enclosing his entire body.

The Sith below them watched in shock and astonishment as they witnessed their master thrown in the air like gizca. Disbelief ran through the mind of Revan, who had escaped from death itself. He wondered how such a thing could have happened.

There was no obvious explanation for this occurrence. But there is _always_ a culprit behind everything. The one guilty for this is one he thought, and hoped, he would never here from again.

------------------------------------------

The Ebon Hawk slowly descended into Dock Module 126, a plume of exhaust discharge spewing from its back engine. The Citadel's encounter with the Ravager had not greatly damaged the station, though the problem of the fuel remained. Traffic and trade was busy as usual outside the docking bay. The Ithorians were almost constantly importing an extensive amount of flora and fauna for their Restoration Project.

The Exile continued to endure the pain of his wounds, though he was mending quite rapidly. Whether he was well enough to wonder around a space station and take on galactic issues was quite debatable, but he did not care. Like Revan, he knew what must me done.

He slowly lifted himself from the medical gurney, making sure to take every step with caution. He removed his hanging robes from the wall and slipped them on. A faint snap sounded as he clipped his dual lightsabers onto his belt.

"How are you feeling General? Are you sure you well enough to walk?" asked Bao-Dur in his gentle voice.

"Don't worry, I'm fine. Do me a favor and let Atton know we'll be going to speak with the Admiral shortly and I would surely appreciate his company."

The tech gave him a nod and walked over to the cockpit. As he stepped through the arched entrance, he noticed Atton was staring dead into space. It was as if he was disconnected from his surrounds.

He approached the pilot slowly, placing his hand on his shoulder, "Atton?"

The scoundrel reacted quickly, obviously started by his companion's sudden greeting. "C'mon now, didn't you see I was half asleep. A knock would be nice, you know," protested Atton, quickly coming back to reality.

Bao-Dur controlled his slight irritation at Atton's less than pleasant response. "The General will be visiting the republic admiral soon and would like you to accompany him."

"Yea? Well tell him he can find someone else. I'm not getting off this ship."

Continuing his control of his emotions, he simply turned around and headed back to tell the Exile of his response. His mature behavior made him more and more suitable for further Jedi training, an option that his commanding officer would not pass up. But for now, there were far more important priorities that the Exile had to take care of.

The Iridonian walked up to the Exile, but held back when he noticed he was approaching the cargo hold, where the Handmaiden was locked in.

The Exile knocked on the door, signaling he would be entering. He placed his finger on the control panel, opening it. As expected the Handmaiden was dressed in her undergarments. Her arms sliced through the air with precision as she practiced her Echani battle strikes.

The moment she heard the door open, her head turned. She ran towards the Exile and embraced him in a passionate hug, relieved to see him alive. A small tear rolled down her cheek, but she quickly wiped it off. She could not let the Exile now her true feelings.

"Thank you Brianna." His voice was low and she was obviously much happier to see him than vice versa. Not to say he was angry at her presence, merely that he was not pleased with her behavior earlier, no matter what her intentions were.

"About earlier Exile, I apologize. But you cannot allow…"

"Brianna, she is here to help us. She will not be leaving this ship at any point in time," the Exile had interrupted her before she could even begin her speech of ignorance.

"I do not understand how you can trust a Sith with your life; how you let her roam around our ship like one of us!"

"If you do not want to trust her, then trust me. I have faith in her. All I ask is for your faith in my decision."

The Handmaiden turned around and walked slowly to the plasteel cylinder at the end of the room. She opened it and removed thick white robes as well as a large blue lightsaber. One arm went in first, then the other as she placed the robes on her back. A bright dual blade was emitted from the hilt as she ignited it.

"From now on, consider me an extension of your own self, Exile. I will be your eyes, your ears, and your blade. Whatever decision you make, I will give my life defending it…defending you."


End file.
